(2014-04-23) Nice to meet you.... Again.
NIce to meet you…. Again
Summary: While tracking prey in NYC, Huntress meets a young socialite, and then a young hero.
Date: IC Date (2014-04-23)
Related: None
NPCs: Terrence 'Snuffy' Whitman, Two random mob goons
Scene Runner: N/A
Social/Plot: Plot

Manhattan. A very ritzy party is being held. It isn't for charity, it's for self promotion and shameless entitlement. All the things most mob bosses enjoy. The fact they can do it is all the reason needed.

Helena herself is here to stalk and study the mobsters in New York. She is still trying to track down the source that Don Mandragora used to source the weapons for the hit that killed her family. It is the current hold up in her wave of retribution and why the murder of the murderers has stopped. She hasn't given up. She is just biding her time.

Dressed for the party in a 1930's era silk gown that really leaves little to the imagination as far as body form under it she arrives looking the part of a gun mol for this art deco throw back party. Hair done up as only Hollywood starlets could have, perfectly made up. She emerges from a limo, one bare, flawless olive hued leg and four inch heel first, then the gam disappears into the silky plum hued gown as Helena stands and makes her way toward the party, small clutch purse in hand. And inside.. a collapsed crossbow. Because a girl never leaves home unarmed.

Kate is already inside, typically early for these sorts of things. There doesn't seem to be a charity attached to the occasion, so she's at a loss as to why her father insisted that she attend as a representative for Bishop Publishing. She's currently enjoying a non-alcoholic beverage as she mingles with a couple in the crowd. Her dark chestnut hair is brush to the side, curled to the point of wavy as it cascades down along her left shoulder. A shoulderless lavender gown cinches under the bodice but then flows on to the floor, a slit up the leg. A pair of matching heels and long gloves accessorize the outfit. She can't hide much in the dress, though if anyone decides to get fresh, they'll find a battle staff strapped to her thigh.

Helena Bertinelli makes her way in. Fashionably late. If only for the attention. It deflects from the fact she's not really supposed to be here. The Bertinelli family hasn't had much dealing in American mob circles for some time and her uncle keeps to northern Italy and parts of Switzerland.

Mingling through the crowd, Helena finds a flue of champagne and a spot to watch those making the most waves as they meet, greet, and arrange for business dealings a bit later in the evening. Glancing over she sees the young woman. The similarities are apparently and it is kind of amusing in a way. She approaches a server for a little canape' of smoked salmon on a little toast point. Finishing the bite sized morsel and following it with a sip from her glass, she comments, "I didn't realize fate had given me a sister." A light tone to her voice. "You've got lovely taste in fashion." The two could, perhaps pass as sisters to the uninformed. Probably not twins of course but it's an amusing thought just the same when at a party with no one she cares to talk to otherwise. Her eyes casually scan the room for any likely targets. They'll be visited later.

Kate Bishop turns to the woman as she approaches, a brow raised at the similarities. "I appreciate a new sister better then a new mother." She smiles brightly. "Great color scheme." She grabs an hors d'oeuvre with one hand and offers the right gloved one to the newly arriving woman. "Before we call our designers to complain, my name's Kate Bishop. It's a pleasure." She looks around. "Are you as out of place in something like this as I feel?"

Helena Bertinelli takes the hand, hers bare but for some very pricy diamond bracelets. She shakes the hand warmly. She smiles. "It does seem that we've found our calling… dark and sultry and with the same taste in color palettes.." She laughs softly, a hint of a Sicilian accent. "Helena Bertinelli. I'm pleased to meet you Ms. Bishop.." She pauses, "Would that make your father…." letting the question linger to be confirmed denied or sidestepped. Never make an awkard impression at one of thense events after all. Nevermind she just walked up and started talking about being sisters. That's not awkward in the least, right?

"And I think we've both, possibly, found our place if I might be so bold." A smile flashed from darkly painted lips.

Kate Bishop nods with a smile as she release her hand. "Helena. Such a classic name." She looks around at those gathered. "Would that make my father a womanizer after my mother died? Why, yes." She smirks and side-looks over to Helena. "Don't bother. You could do so much better." She glances around. "I'm giving this place about another ten minutes before I officially call it an appearance and leave."

Helena Bertinelli laughs softly and moves to stand next to Kate. "He might be a womanzier, Ms. Bishop but he's your father. And while you might not realize it now, family is important. Even if you cannot, necessarily, stand the family you were born into." She smiles lightly, "But then again.. we could always skip out on this and go spend a night on the town and for that time at least pretend we're the sisters we never had and do something to make everyone else regret they're not with us."

Kate Bishop raises a brow. "It's true. It could be worse. We could be the Mansons…. or the Jacksons." She finishes her drink. "But you just got here. I would be remiss to take you away from the throng of peons in order to have you to myself." She adds with a slight chuckle. "Honestly, i don't mind these things when there's a point. A charity to donate to, a birthday party or a wedding.. Otherwise it's just all pointless, and I can spend my time in pursuit of other peop… I mean, things." She folds her arms in front of her chest.

Helena Bertinelli grins, "Other people? Uh oh.. the secret's out.. who are you trying to pursue?" Her voice teasing, "or am I lucky enough that there isn't a target yet.." Another server passes and she sets the empty champagne flute on the silver tray and picks two up. Casually she offers one over as if nothing were wrong with that gesture.

Kate Bishop shakes her head. "No particular targets. I just keep my eye out for those who think no one's looking." She smiles, "I don't know you, so that pretty much rules you out of the City and Jersey circles. So where are you from?" She waves off the champagne. "Thanks, but no. Gotta keep my wits about me." There's work to do later.

Helena Bertinelli shrugs and sets the glass down in reach of Kate. "It's not going to get you drunk." She winks. "I'm not from the area. I'm from Gotham. If you know who is behind this little gathering then you can connect your own dots." The tone suggests she is tied but not necessarily happy about it. "You.. made the Olympics didn't you? Or.. were close anyway?"

Kate Bishop blushes. "My one claim to fame, yes. I made it, I just didn't win a medal." She shakes her head. "I don't know who's behind this, actually. My father has so many damn connections." She thinks. "Well, welcome to New York, then. I hope you find whatever you're looking for here." She looks at the time. "I should be going. Please try to enjoy the rest of your evening." She pulls out a business card from… somewhere.. and hands it over. "Here, call me if you're looking for something to do while you're in the City. We could go shopping or something."

Helena Bertinelli takes the card and smiles. "Well I might just call you in twenty minutes after I'm bored to tears. But thank you Ms. Bishop. And a medal doesn't make someone more of an Olympian. In fact I might see if you'd be willing to talk shop on technique sometime. I've a bit of a similar hobby. But have a good night. It was a pleasure to meet you."

Helena Bertinelli takes that card and slips it into the revealing gown she wears, tucked into her bra. It might not be high society. But perhaps it would be taken as a compliment the card was thought well enough of to be kept someplace truly.. safe.

Kate Bishop smiles and nods. "I look forward to it." She waves and weaves her way towards the exit.

Later that night:

Central Park is quiet, the early Spring evening sees the trees begin to bud and the grass begins to look a bit more green. There are still a few joggers running through the park, a a lone beat cop patrols the perimeter. Hawkette hides in the shadows of a tall oak, moving from shadow to shadow during her patrol. Out of nowhere, a screech of tires precedes a loud bang as a car slams into a lightpost. Three goons in tuxedos escape the vehicle and run as if their lives depended on it. The reach into their jackets for guns as they run.

Helena Bertinelli watches Kate slip off. Certain the young socialite saw the new home for that card. A coy smile across her lips. And then she gets to business. Mingling. Watching. She finds the men she's looking for and then the one inparticular she has her sights set on. She manages to learn his name. Terrance 'Snuffy' Whitman. The guy in NYC many mobsters go to when they want someone dead and very publicly so. She watches him from across the room and finally takes her leave. Slipping out a staff exit into the alley behind where her gear is stashed…

The huntress apepars where Helena Bertinelli left. Her gown thrown into the dumpster for some bum to find. Firing off a grapple bolt she ascends to the top of the hotel and swings across to watch and wait for Snuffy to emerge. It won't be long now.

And then they come out. Three goons in tuxedos.. she swings down and lands on the roof. And that? That causes panic. Panic causes poor driving. And oor driving causes a car to skid out of control and crash into a light pole outside Central Park.

And so.. it begins.

Hawkette is young and still has to work out her strategies. She chases after the men, not bothering to look at what it could be that has three grown armed men running scared. She continues to run from tree to tree, staying out of sight as much as possible and avoiding the panicked shots from the running men. She finally takes a second to turn around and look at what's chasing them.

At the moment it seems as if nothing is chasing them. Maybe they're drunk or drugged up. It's not a rival Family. The car steams and smokes from it's impact with the light pole.

Then a shadow. A figure walking along the path.

Ftzzz! *tink* Ftzzz *tink!* The walking path's lights just got shot out by someone. The fear in the men's eyes is real and particularly placed. The brunette avenging angel stalks them down the path, cape swirling about her form. Her mask rises up on each side as if to evoke the emotions of seeing The Bat-Man. For those that can see in the dark, she holds two crossbows in hand as she closes in on the three gangsters.

Hawkette is not so skilled enough th=o be able to see in the dark. She can't really make out the figure except for the pointed cowl. She huffs at herself, ticked off at someone hunting on her turf. "Batfreak can't keep to Gotham.." She mutters under her breath as she turns to the goons. She reaches into her quiver and pulls out a bola arrow and lets it fly. The tip opens up to a three-lined cable with weights at the end. The intent is to trip the men up so she can catch both prey and predator. She's got some questions to ask.

Huntress is so much more freaky than the legend of the Bat-Man. She doesn't have a code of conduct. She might not drink blood from her victims but she spills plenty of that on her own.

Following the men isn't hard. They make more noise than a bunch of starved and lost hikers trying to beat each other down to be the first to a Big Belly Burger they saw as they staggered over a ridge from a month long exile. Okay. it's a bad analogy. But they're making plenty of noise.

Huntress closes in just as the bola arrow whistles in and expands. It's a shot that makes even her jealous. The three goons topple and Huntress picks up the pace. No one else is getting her quarry. Even if they bagged Snuff Whitman themselves.

Closing in she raises a crossbow, pinning Snuffy's hand to the ground by impalement as he cried out in agony. His pistol clattering away. "Don't try that again or I aim for Snuffy Junior." Her next bolt aimed between the man's legs.

Hawkette notches another arrow and aims it at the brunette with the keen eye for fashion. "Nice color scheme." She says, for the second time tonight, "but you're hunting on MY turf. Drop the weapon and explain yourself."

Huntress glances over. Her second crossbow is aimed at the other archer. She blinks. Not again. "What is it with Manhattan and twins?" She shakes her head, "There's no sign here, sugar. These boys have been bad and I intend to make them pay for it. Don't get in my way and thing will be just fine." Her voice clipped and threatening.

Hawkette huffs. "Their disarmed. Let them pay for it in jail. I can have the police here in thirty seconds." She promises and threatens at the same time. She changes the aim of her arrow to the men. "What did you idiots do to piss *her* off?" She keeps her eyes on both targets.

Huntress looks to the men as they protest, "… didn't do nothin' to th' bitch! Fuckin' psycho!"

Huntress fires another bolt, this time just grazing Snuffy's groin. He yelps and wails, "She's Crazy!"

Huntress cuts him off. "I may be crazy. But you and your boys here belong to the Sargenti mob family. And you, Terrence 'Snuffy' Whitman.. are Manhattan's favorte sledgehammer." She shares this info with the archer-girl. "If you've had a very messy mob hit in the last fifteen years around here? Snuffy's probably the one who did it or set it up. Isn't that right Snuffy?"

"Fuck you, bitch! Ain't tellin' you nuthin!"

Huntress steps forward. "Oh. I think you are, Terrence. You're going to tell me who your supplier is. Where do you get your 6.7mm ammo. Give me a name, Terrence and your family jewels stay intact." Unless Hawkette stops her, Huntress will attempt to step her right foot out and push the booted toe against that bolt between the man's legs, using it to apply pressure to sensitive bits. She glances to Hawkette. "Now you can lower your bow and help me out or you can shoot me and everyone loses and these scum go free."

Hawkette grumbles and lowers her bow. "Fine." She pulls out a cell and starts a quick text. "Pull you're foot back. Nothing they say right now is admissible." She looks up in time to see one of Snuffy's goons slide a gun out of his sock. She reaches for a staff on her leg and tosses it to knock the pistol out of the man's hand. It works, but not before a shot goes off. The shot was originally aimed for Huntress' chest but the hit sent it off as it hits her in the arm.

Huntress laughs. "Admissable? I don't plan on trying them in court." And she presses again on the bolt. Her gazed is on Hawkette and she looks back too late to stop the man aiming the gun at her nice belly window. The gun goes off as the arrow deflects it. Striking her rib it riccohets and rips into her left bicep causing her to stagger back. She's stunned and unclear how badly she's injured at the moment. "…uhnn! Damn it.." she utters in surprise. She fires off a shot that skewers and kills one of the goons but not Snuffy. The cold sweat that comes with a rush of adrenaline hits as the sound of sirens echo off the towering buildings around the park. "… dammit.." he's going to ground. He's going to run. She looks to Hawkette. "This is your fault." Bitter much? Well she DID just get shot. turning she begins to job away from the scene, holding her arm to try and stop the blood loss till she can get someplace safe to properly examine it and dress the wound. "Get out of here. I'll be back for them another time. Don't forget me Snuffy. We'll see each other again soon."

Hawkette typically works with the cops, but explaining a dead mobster and a rogue vigilante is not on her to-do list. As the other two run off and the sirens wail, Kate runs after Huntress. "Wait! We need to get that looked at!" She feels guilty. For the men escaping, for the third dying, and for the woman getting shot. But this isn't the Wild West. She keeps an eye on the woman as she chases after. "We have to get you to a hospital."

Huntress snorts. "Yeah. No. I'm not going to a hospital. You've done enough. Really. Go home." And she lifts her crossbow. For a moment it seems as if she's going to shoot Hawkette. Instead she aims it high at a nearby building and fires. A thin cable trails behind as the grapple plays out. "See you around." Yeah. Because she'll be back for Snuffy. Count on it. The grapple connects and a small reel begins to tug her off the ground and up to safety from the police and prying eyes. She hopes.

So Katie's not the only one with fancy toys. She shoots and arrow with a winch and makes her way to the roof, running and jumping and keeping up as best she can. "I'm not going anywhere until you answer my questions." She catches her breath as she runs. "And at this rate you'll bleed out."

Huntress doesn't stop till she's made it two blocks. And then she's breathing heavy and is light headed. Stupid. Rookie mistakes. All of these. She should have been more careful. She shouldn't have been seen. She should have waited to jump Whitman and his lackeys. Now everything's gone to hell. Dropping against an airconditioning unit, blending into the shadows for everyone but Hawkette, the Gotham vigilante lets go of her crossbows and begins to fumble for a small first aid kit in a pouch. She has to stop the bleeding. But it's getting harder to focus.

Hawkette catches up quickly. She gets down to her knees to help the woman. "Let me help you." She says as she tries to take a look at the arm and the rib. "What were you doing in Central Park? Why haven't I seen you around before?" She asks, pulling off her sunglasses in order to see better.

Huntress sits there, breathing a bit shallow. Blood trails freely down from her left bicep. It could have hit or knicked the artery from the looks of it.

Closing her eyes to stop the roof top from spinning, she shrugs, "Not from here. Gotham. Needed info." She's lost a lot more blood in a short amount of time than she wanted to admit and she's starting to go into shock.

"…. sloppy. careless." words against herself really.

Hawkette fiddles with the bandaging. "It's just a graze, really. I can't tell if you need stitches." She does her best to bandage the girl up. "Gotham? What is this, a bloody invasion?" She sighs and looks up at the slurring words. "Hey.. Stay with me. You're not that bad off." She attempts to slap the woman's face in an effort to keep her awake. "I'll take you to my place."

Huntress's wound appears to be clean through the muscle. But the blood loss is still significant if not stopped. The ribs are just going to hurt like the devil for a while. She looks up. "… fine.. Let's.. get out of here hmm?" She moves to stand with some help. "Thanks kid."

Hawkette nods and finishes wrapping the wound. She helps Huntress up and off they go..

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